For the second time this week, Phil found himself locked in his bathroom, knees to his chest, sobbing his eyes out, and Dan sought out answers at the bottom of a bottle. He always wondered why things had got this bad. Both of them were happy not long ago, loads of cuddling, sleepy movie nights, and those long passionate kisses that you only see in movies anymore. But now, despite being it maybe a month or two ago, the happiness they once shared felt like a distant memory to him.
Their relationship had become toxic. It started with Dan swearing off his anger problems and quitting therapy. Which worked for about a week until, he became a familiar shade of fiery red again. Phil urged him to go back to his therapist, but he had none of it.
Then he started drinking. First a pint or two every other night, which Phil didn’t mind. Then a few every night, which quickly escalated to the younger man getting piss drunk night after night, and taking all of his pent up anger out on the poor, little, blue boy. It soon appeared to be that Dan was only ever happy when his sorry head was filled with alcohol.
“Phil, come out of the fucking bathroom.” Dan pounded on the closed door, making him whimper. “Seriously? You’re crying? Jesus christ Phil. You are pathetic. You act like a fucking child! Come out of the god damn bathroom, before I come in.” Dan sounded absolutely livid. Phil remained in his curled up position on the toilet, trying to mask the cries. “Fucking fag, let me in!” A couple more loud thumps against the wood surface before he heard his boyfriend stomp away.
He slowly gathered himself up using the counter next to him. His eyes were bloodshot from crying, and the slap mark on his left cheek became more prominent on his ghostly skin. He’s seen himself like this plenty of times before. His appearance wasn’t anything new.
He poked his head out in the hallway to make sure Dan wasn’t around, then snuck into his own room. He quickly stripped down, and crawled underneath the blue comforter. Tomorrow was another day.
Around seven in the morning, Phil felt a pair of arms wrap around his torso.
“Phil, baby.” a voice who he could only guess to be Dan’s, murmured into his neck. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you, I didn’t mean what I said.” Phil stayed still, pretending to be asleep but hearing everything that was just said. Dan’s arms pulled him in closer, “I’m sorry Phil. I’m gonna try to get better.”
Empty promises like this had been made before, but somehow Phil always fell for them. He turned around and snuggled into Dan’s chest. “Thank you.”
Dan kissed his forehead, “Have I ever told you how visionary you look in the morning sun?” Phil shook his head, “Well you look absolutely beautiful. This is my happy place. I love you so much Phil, I’m so sorry.”
“I love you too.” He whispered before he felt Dan’s breath steady. Phil closed his eyes and tried to sleep again, but his mind was swimming with thoughts.
Maybe Dan will get better.
For a few days, they reverted back to how they used to be. They had a movie marathon, and ordered the Tesco they’d been in dire need of. Phil forgot about his blueness, Dan masked his redness. They became purple again. But after one short night, the two came down from their brief moments of euphoria, and the colors returned.
“My god Phil, lighten up it was a little love punch!”
“Stop crying god damnit, you are not a baby!”
“Maybe if you weren’t as shit of a person as you are, I wouldn’t hate you so much!”
“Yeah thats right Phil, I hate you. You worthless piece of scum.”
Phil had never been so blue in his life. Mentally or Physically. His emotions had been consumed by his depression, and his body had succumbed to the bruises. Everything was blue. His pills, his skin, his dreams. He was covered in the color, being pulled apart at the seams.
He hadn’t left his room for a couple of days after their latest fight, with the exception of getting breakfast cereal. He found an unconscious Dan sprawled out across the lounge floor with a half empty bottle of rum in his hand. Phil let out a big sigh and picked up the sleeping man. He set him into bed, but not before hearing a faint ‘I love you Philly’ pass through Dan’s red and bruised lips. It took everything in Phil to return the phrase.
When he was just about to walk away, Dan grabbed his wrist right on a sore spot and tried to pull him back. Phil winced, and yanked away his hand. “Not today.”
Now forgetting about his cereal, Phil ran back into his room. He stood in front of the mirror. His blue eyes, cried the bluest tears, but he felt his soul on fire.
“Not today,” was the closest thing he had ever said to standing up for himself. It replayed inside his head, over, and over.
He found an old duffel under his bed. He’d packed this very same bag with the intentions of leaving plenty of times before, but never had the guts to do it. Maybe today would be different.
Continuing his sudden burst of confidence, Phil gathered up a few days worth of clothes, his phone and charger, and a few other things he’d need to survive. He’d never gone this far, and he knew deep down, that he would regret it if he ever came back, but his mind was fogged with the hurt that Dan caused. He only had one thought. He was going to leave.
He found a pen, and a pad of paper. He ripped off the top sheet that was covered in scribbles of their unpaid bills. He felt a pang of guilt, knowing Dan wouldn’t pay the bills, or buy food.
“I’ll be back to help him,” Phil promised to himself, “I’ll make sure he gets better.” He wrote a quick note, and shuffled out the door.
We used to always joke about colours. You were red and you liked me because I was blue. Well you touched me and suddenly I was a lilac sky,
but you decided purple just wasn't for you.
I do love you, and I’ll be back to help you, I promise.